By
Sally Lehrman Last week,
Sen. Barack Obama invited the nation to a high-level conversation about race. Are we up to it? As journalists, we generally sit on the sidelines and observe. Like it or not, though, we help shape the discussion through the angles we highlight, the sources we call, even the words we pick.
Just on the face of it,
the Rev. Jeremiah Wright flap highlighted some errors we've been making. Why were fiery sermons by a pastor in an African American church such a surprise? How often do those of us who aren't religion reporters step outside our own religious communities? According to the Gallup Poll, as much as 62 percent of the U.S. population attended church on Easter Sunday. We all might get a better feel for community sentiments and stories if we ventured out to those hard pews under stained glass windows more often.
The ways that our journalistic choices affect the general conversation about race may present a far trickier terrain. As much as we hate putting history in our stories, some pieces about trends in education, housing or lending practices could use a reference to Jim Crow. To me, the legacy of segregation that Obama spoke of should be part of the internal reference base that helps shape every beat.
It turns out, though, that talking about structural racism isn't a good way to start a rational conversation. Reminding people of historic injustices that still keep whites in wealthier communities and better schools might improve accuracy. But by themselves, UCLA political scientist Frank Gilliam has found, context and history don't help audiences beyond the views they already hold. Evidence alone isn't enough. We need to help our audiences into new territory.
In a recent interview, Gilliam told me that if we want people to listen, we need to start with the shared values that are hurt by structural inequalities and reactive stereotyping: American ingenuity, enterprise and the need to address social problems, rather than allowing them to fester.
If we want people to respond to our stories, we need to remind them about why, as a society, we've said that disparities matter. When students in primarily black schools aren't offered the advanced courses required for college, our collective promise of the American dream has been broken. When hospitals offer less aggressive treatments for patients of color, those patients don't share the same chance for long life as everyone else. As Gilliam puts it, "There are a bunch of orange cones blocking the on-ramp to success." Journalism has a long tradition of pointing out the orange cones. Gilliam has me thinking that more often, we need to describe where the highway is heading.
